


Calling’s Cure

by MinMaxSpeech



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMaxSpeech/pseuds/MinMaxSpeech
Summary: After finding the cure for the calling, the death note for any grey warden, Alarel found himself completely overwhelmed by a Darkspawn horde during his escape.
Relationships: Leliana/Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 1





	Calling’s Cure

Alarel was running out of arrows, and the Darkspawn didn’t stop coming. With every monstrosity that the elf managed to down, another two took its place, charging forwards with gnashing teeth and murderous intent. On some level, Alarel regretted keeping his loyal Mabari back, stopping him from joining him for this excursion into ancient tombs and ruins. But he knew that it would be too dangerous for a man and his dog to face, and the last thing that Alarel would want would be to needlessly endanger his dog.

If he wasn’t so focused on massacring the Darkspawn horde before him, he might have found it funny. He truly had become a tried and true Ferelden.

An ogre surged forth, decimating the darkspawn’s own numbers in an attempt to reach Alarel sooner. Two arrows- one in each eye- was all it took to stop it from ever having a chance at reaching him. Perhaps his years as the Commander of the Grey were still good for something, after all. Magical blasts echoed throughout the cavern, concussive blasts that shook the foundations of the cave, made the very ground beneath Alarel’s feet tremble. Even Emissaries had joined this battle. Alarel allowed himself a small laugh, as yet another shot found its mark in a Genlock’s head. They truly did want him dead, didn't they?

The humour in the situation was quickly lost on Alarel, however, as he continued to back away, firing arrows desperately into the horde. He had stopped keeping track of how many shots were left within his quiver, and had instead lost himself into the process of simply grabbing one and shooting, again and again and again. It was foolish, of course, but in the heat of battle, Alarel found it easy to make such simple mistakes. When one’s life is on the line, it becomes far easier to simply neglect to count how many arrows one has left.

“May the Dread Wolf take you back to whatever shithole you crawled out of!” Alarel roared, downing a shriek. He reached for an arrow… and found himself grasping at empty air. “Fuck me…” The Dalish elf groaned, throwing his bow as hard as he could at an advancing hurlock. Sweat dropped down Alarel’s body, as did blood, oozing from lacerations brought on by the arrows of the Darkspawn’s own archers. Drawing a pair of daggers from his drakeskin boots, Alarel sped up his back-pedalling, walking as quickly as he could possibly do without taking his eyes off the encroaching Darkspawn horde.

Alarel found it ironic that he had found the cure for the Calling, and yet was facing his end in the same way that every other Grey Warden had done before.  
“Creators,” Alarel murmured to himself, as he slit a hurlock’s throat and kicked its lifeless corpse towards its brethren, “Be kind to me. Watch over my love.” Alarel felt his chest tighten at the thought of Leliana. At the thought of never seeing her again.

No.

He wasn’t leaving her. 

With a roar, Alarel threw one of his few remaining grenades into the hoard, the resulting explosion sounding like the fury of Fen’Harel himself had met the horde’s might… and won. The Darkspawn didn’t stop, but they were slowed, forced to clamber over the bodies of their hideous brothers in order to reach this skilled, bloody, and insufferable prey.   
“Fight me, you fuckers!” Alarel roared. He had never known a fury like this, as he drove his knife into the temple of a shriek, he wondered if he was succumbing to the calling himself, becoming as monstrous as the beings he was murdering.

That line of thought quickly died again when he pictured Leliana. No, he wasn’t killing these bastards without reason. He had a reason, and it was the most beautiful, most intelligent, and kindest reason he could possibly envision. Creators, if the Darkspawn hadn’t surged after him, he wouldn’t have even attempted to pick a fight with them. It seemed as if taking this one tome had pissed them off beyond all recognition. He understood why. Perhaps the only consolation that Darkspawn has in their miserable, horrifying lives is the knowledge that the fucker that killed them would meet the same end as him. Now, even that was unsure.

Alarel could feel the wind at his back, the light of day managing to illuminate the ruins he had found himself in. Covered in blood, the elf let out a furious cry as he drove his blade into the gut of an emissary. A sharp crack to his side made the Dalish elf collapse, coughing blood. One of their alphas had forced its way to the front of the horde and before Alarel could notice it, had slammed his hammer into his side.   
“Creators…” Alarel attempted to drag his body over to his daggers- they had been launched from his grip in the shock of the alpha’s blow.

Alarel grew close, his fingers curling around the handle of one of his poisoned blades, before a boot pressed down against his wrist. It was that same alpha. A echoed through the chamber, emanating from that monstrosity’s deformed face. Alarel looked up at the bastard, defiance and malice clearly evident on his features. He slammed his fist into one of the Alpha’s knees. A satisfying crack and a roar of pain from the monster told him that he’d done damage. The Darkspawn stumbled off of Alarel’s wrist, allowing the elf to pick up his blades and scramble to his feet. 

Seeing their prey was not dead yet, the horde resumed its charge. The alpha must have made them hold back, Alarel realised, so it could savour the kill. He hated that fucker even more, now. He leapt forward, burying both of his daggers deep into the Alpha’s neck Ripping them out in a fountain of gore, Alarel spied a shriek, descending upon him. 

Before he could turn around, the beast collapsed to the floor, an arrow piercing its temple. Alarel didn’t take the time to see who his mysterious ally was, instead continuing to assault the horde of beasts that charged forth. Snatching a bow and a quiver off of a dead hurlock- killed by one of his savior’s arrows also, he and the stranger thinned the horde, firing arrow after arrow down the cave, killing Darkspawn of all kinds as they maniacally rushed towards the two. 

After several long minutes, the Darkspawn horde seemed to realise this was a failing effort, and began to flee. Even as they ran, the duo managed to end another five darkspawn, the last beast to fall collapsing with a pair of arrows piercing its heart.  
“Thank you.” Alarel spoke through his own blood, and realised he was out of breath, and probably had been for some time. Everything in his body ached, Alarel quickly realised. He was covered in the viscous gore of a Darkspawn horde, which mixed with his own blood to form a truly vile-looking concoction. He wondered if it was similar to what he drank to become a Warden, and quickly banished the thought.

Alarel looked up at the woman who had saved him. Recognising her, his eyes immediately widened. Reaching forwards with trembling hands, his fingers caught on the woman’s hood, gently pulling it back.  
“Leliana?” Alarel spoke, awe evident in his voice. He could barely believe that it was her!   
“Hello, my love.” Leliana smiled. For a moment, Alarel tried to formulate a response, something to say to the woman he had done all of this for, anything that would be worthy of her. He couldn’t find a word. Instead, the elf pressed forwards on shaking, unsteady feet. He almost collapsed, draping his arms around Leliana’s shoulders and using her as support.

Alarel pressed his lips against his lover’s. The kiss was sloppy and it was desperate, but for Alarel, it was perfect. Alarel found himself breathless, his mind solely occupied by the woman before him. He felt Leliana wrap her arms around him, helping Alarel rise properly to his feet, however unsteady they may be. Alarel realised that all he had been operating on ever since entering the ruins was adrenaline, and now the danger had passed, so had the sole thing keeping him moving.

Alarel broke away from the kiss, a smile glowing on his features.  
“Why are you here, Leliana?”  
“I wanted to see my love.” The Divine smiled warmly, gently pressing her forehead against her boyfriend’s.  
“How did you know I was here?”  
“I’ve had an agent keeping an eye on you for a while, my love. As soon as you learned the cure was here, my agent alerted me, and here I am.”  
“And what about the chantry?”  
“The chantry can wait.” Leliana shot back, “You matter more to me than standing around in the cathedral in Val Royeaux. If it wasn’t for my being divine, I would have been here to help you find the cure years ago.”   
“Well… I have it.” Alarel smiled warmly, pulling a scroll from a bag he had secured onto his belt. “This was… so much trouble to find.” Alarel laughed to himself, handing the scroll to Leliana.

“So… what now, my love?” Leliana questioned, as the two began to walk back to Alarel’s camp.  
“I want to have someone test this cure on me, first.”  
“And after that?”  
“We send a copy of the cure to Weisshaupt, and then I think it’s time I visit Orlais.”  
“Why?” Leliana raised a fiery eyebrow, confusion evident on her features.  
“Well, that’s where you live, isn’t it? I won’t be a Warden anymore, so I think spending my time helping people in Orlais would suit me well. I get to be close to you, and still do what I do best, even if it’s not as Commander of the Grey.”   
“That sounds wonderful, my love.” Leliana pressed her lips against Alarel’s cheek.  
“Be careful,” Alarel laughed, “I don’t want to learn that we’ll need to use this cure on you cuz you’ve been kissing me while I’m covered in Darkspawn guts.”  
“My love, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Leliana laughed.

Alarel missed the sound of Leliana’s laugh. When he first heard it, he thought it was the most beautiful noise the Creators had ever gifted Thedas. And after years apart, he knew as if that assessment was still accurate.


End file.
